Lost In Phantom
by thiswillbeourfairytale
Summary: My name's Emily. I think I've become so miserable in my life that I've deluded myself into the Phantom of the Opera. Don't worry, I won't meddle too much. I won't give Erik love advice and Raoul 'chinese burns' - Promise. E/C...if I get my way.
1. No 1  Don't Stand Out

_How to Survive the Phantom of the Opera_

_#1 - Don't try and stand out. _

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><p>I've gone officially insane.<p>

I _know – _people joke about that all the time (why? I'll never really understand as insanity is no laughing matter…) but I swear to you. I _have._

I have no particular clue where to begin my story. Or what to say. As of current I am standing behind a curtain – in front is a stage. Performing on the stage is the _company. _The company of the _Opera Populaire. _Oh I know what you are thinking! _Gee! That name sounds awfully familiar! _It should be.

Pictures of masks, fops, moustaches and ballet should now be eroding your mind. Yes, it _is _the Phantom of the Opera. But there's an issue with my story and this is where my supposition of mental instability comes in. For you see, I'm not gazing out at the _theatre _company of people _playing _the company of the Opera Populaire.

Those harmonizing bodies _are _the company of the Opera Populaire.

I am in the Phantom of the Opera.

_Literally._

Sliding the curtain back and covered in darkness again, I crouch and hug my knees to my chest. I then close my eyes softly. I know _exactly _what you are thinking – _she's lost it. _And to be honest, I've made it pretty clear that I probably _have. _After all, I am the most vulnerable to a crisis like this _being _a die-hard Phantom fan from about eight years old. I remember the distinct memories of sitting in the theatre, my s_till _braced teeth chattering together as the masked man made his final appearance on the stage.

But – please, don't mistake me. I _know _the story's not real. I mean – I know it was created from a book of some sort and – _oh god. _I open my eyes slowly as I hear them, rehearsing that number from _Hannibal. _

Oh god. I find my throat going dry as I shut my eyes again.

Best start from the beginning shall we?

Well, it started from the loud noise in the attic.

* * *

><p>There were rats in the house.<p>

I've been suspecting it for a while now. I don't _care _what my housemate– Jesse – might say. I _know. _Because I _hear _stuff up the attic and _unless _she can explain that to me I don't think I'd believe her that it's just nothing. I suppose it could also be a ghost…but what are the chances of _that_?

My brown eyes were wide open – almost bloodshot as I heard the first _knock _up the attic. It always happened the same way _and _the same time. I don't know why – if I had OCD rats or something. _But_, it didn't matter because I was convinced that tonight I _will _find out whatever was up there. Even if Jesse didn't help.

Holding my torch, I flicked the switch and found its light shining into the quelling darkness across my open door. Sleepily, I rubbed my eyes and then grabbed my robe. Tying the belt around my waist, I padded forwards – _silent. _I could hear the knocks – they were always quite subtle after the first loud one. But it was odd that I always seemed to be the one who was bothered by it – Jesse never noticed!

Ridiculous. And I've got a presentation to do tomorrow.

Best do this quick then. Swallowing softly, I scowled as I realized I hadn't shed off my damn retainer. _Ugh. _"Je_thieeee_!" I murmured, pushing the white door open and rolling my eyes as I was greeted by soft snores. "_Jethieee can thoo hear thath?" _Nothing. The lump in the bed was still and slowly heaving as she breathed. I sighed and felt myself shiver. The stairs to the attic was down the hall.

I found myself staring down and feeling like I was in one of those crazy slasher movies.

Of course – my best guess is that my slasher was a colony of crazy rats.

Shaking my mane-like _morning _hair (Christ, I hate it), I began to make my way forwards. Slow and steady. I felt my heart thudding potently against my ribcage, my torchlight shaky as my hand trembled. I _saw _the door to the attic right at the end and I knew it was my time. "Let's kick arse." I grinned, deciding that a _Bailey's _before bed wasn't healthy and almost _skipped _towards the door.

Twisting the silver key, I stepped inside.

Jesse and I never use the attic – we found it dead creepy. We used it only for storage as most attics were utilised for. As I crept up the softly creaking stairway, I realized how long it had been. _Best _be careful though as there were _loads _of spiders in here. I didn't mind them… but in the dark – well, they were pretty scary. My mouth opened as I yawned softly and so in the process I closed my eyes.

It was here that I realized that there may be a _kingdom _of _rats _up here.

I wouldn't look too threatening with my eyes _closed._

My eyes flashed open and I found myself blinking as I saw no rodenst. In fact, I was pretty blank for a few seconds as I surveyed my surroundings – until of course, I heard the _thud _of a fallen book behind me. I immediately spun and my jaw _fell._

For a few seconds, my mind barely comprehended the sight – and I was left absent. It took me a moment to recover and _really _absorb what I was seeing.

There – right _there _was a _girl. _

Like a _fourteen _year old _girl. _I couldn't see much of her as it was still dark and my arm was refusing to move the torchlight – but her face was illuminated by the candle she held. _Wait- _candle? She was staring at me, her face frozen and absolutely _mortified. _I knew why. She _must _be terrified because I actually did look like something off _Rocky Horror. _I mean – I was never a morning person –

Wait. No. That's not the issue. Focus Emily!

"_Eckthuth_ me _whath the hell are you thoing in my athic_?" If that made sense.

I exhaled afterwards only to gasp as the girl whipped around, carrying her candle with her and disappeared behind the _curtain_. Yes, the _curtain _in front of my small attic window. It had always been there – it was really thick, and green like the colour of…something nasty. I didn't touch it. It wasn't a very big curtain though as the attic window wasn't exactly the biggest thing in the house.

Either this girl had forgotten she wasn't the size of a two year old – or she had never been good at Hide and Seek.

Positively _confused,_ I sighed deciding that this was definitely not the three am mood I was meant to be in. _Seriously_, it was three am. I wasn't going to call the police or anything – I'd just send her _home. _

Reaching the curtain, I pulled it back. I wasn't sure what happened afterwards. It all blurred as my eyes fluttered shut from shock. I was so shocked I didn't even have time to scream.

I found my head feeling like it was being squeezed.

There was a _thud. _

A fervent cloud of _dust _down my throat.

And then, I hit the floor. "_Outh_," Ouch. I murmured softly, unsure what had happened as I groggily groaned, padding the floor for my torch but found nothing.

It all went wrong the moment I opened my eyes and my ears stopped buzzing.

'_With feasting and dancing and song,_

_Tonight in celebration,_

_We greet the victorious throng,_

_Returned to bring salvation.'_

I recognized the chorus almost instantly.

"Oh my _thod._" God. I gasped rather excitedly as I realized how _amazing _my dream had become! I had landed _right _in the middle of her Majesty's!

Grinning wolfishly, I peeled back the curtain in front of me, sneaking an eyeful inside. I could see shadows of people dancing – and the theatre…well that was strange I had been here more than enough times to -

And then it hit me.

_I'm not in London._

Panic had bubbled, drying my throat until I almost fainted. If I wasn't in London – then _where _the hell _was _I?

After three more minutes of genius deliberation, I concluded that if I wasn't in London – I _had _to be in the _Phantom of the Opera._

And that was when I found myself squeaking and doubting my sanity. Because somehow – defying the law of physics, chemistry, _biology_ and _reality_ –my attic's dusty, ancient curtain is a portal to a parallel world that _doesn't _reallyexist.

I did what every sleep and oxygen deprived person who doubted their sanity would do.

_I fainted._

* * *

><p>And that's where I'm at.<p>

I've woken up just a few moments ago – sweaty, and drowsy. Of course, when I realized I was still in the same corner and I could still hear the chorus of the same _faux _opera – I deliberated closing my eyes again.

_What the hell do I do?_

I need to get out of this dusty corner – but what I was wearing wasn't exactly something that was going to permit me to slip out _unnoticed. _I mean _come _on. My hair was so frizzed I – I can't even describe it. And the pyjamas. And socks that has turtle designs. Choking as I painfully took off my retainer, I slipped it, disgustedly in my robe pocket.

_Ugh. _

Brushing my cheek softly with my hand, I begin to rumble in the darkness – trying to find something to knock into. Something to _pull. _To find out where the hell I that was when I clumsily elbowed a wall to the side. Thud. "Oh fop!" (I hate doing the serious cusses) I swear, as I feel the back of me get _shoved _forwards. Oh god. I have been leaning on something! _Damn_.

Unable to control movement, I found myself rolling forwards past the curtain. I land, jaw hitting the floor, body flat on the ground. My head pokes out of the hem of the curtain and I groan outwardly, unable to control myself.

"Oh _fo – oah!_!" My swear falters in my mouth as I found myself staring right in the faces of three men. For a second, I almost think they missed me.

Until the slightly larger one's eyes bugged out at me.

_Oh fop._

"Why," The man examines me – or rather my head. "Who are you?" All their eyes were on me now, scrutinizing me as I considered hitting my head on the floor for a concussive exit. I was pretty sure that if I did that – I'd look like a mop of furball on the floor. Maybe they can sweep me away and I can just _lament._

Oh god. "I'm –" I'm breathless. I can barely muster words in my head as I try to _ignore _this swelling urge of familiarity in my mind. _You know them. _No – I don't. _I don't. _"I'm…" I'm unable to answer as my eyes continued to examine them back.

It can't be.

_I'm crazy…I'm crazy…_ "Some, assistance, madam?" He inquires kindly, elderly face undeniably warm. I glance at the hand, feeling painfully drowsy again as my head lolls around.

_I'm crazy…I'm crazy…_

"Yes, please," I manage as I take his hand and slowly get up.

Oh god. If you _see _the looks they were giving me.

I watch as they eye me up and down – from top-to-bottom. My blue bathrobe. My green socks with turtle ears. My _lion _hair. And my pale, sickly face. I wince as their eyes settled on my t-shirt which just showed through the top of my robes. It was luminescent pink with the words:

_You know you want this_ etched proudly on the middle.

It was Jesse's. I borrowed it. My face burned as I swayed sideways, inwardly deciding that I officially hate my best friend. _Good lord._

"Y-you're…the new managers of the – _the _theatre…" I'm not falling for this. I'm just – playing along. And trying to get their eyes off my chest.

The man – _Firmin, _I'm damn sure– smiles at me, "Why yes! Richard Firmin and Gilles André... We have just been taking a lovely _tour _before informing the cast – " His gaze pauses. I find my breaths stuffing inside. "You _are _part of the cast, yes?"

My face screws up.

I hate lying. I _really _do. And for a second, I almost wanted to _lunge _at the both of them, telling them _how _much they are as how I imagined them. Even the old, theatre owner too. But then I realize – I'm actually _gawking._

They were mimicking my mouth which was bobbing up and down as I struggle to search for words.

"S-sorry, n-not yet," I stammer with a large swallow, fingers fidgeting as I try to flatten my hair discreetly, "I – I was planning to try out for a part…but I got lost a_nd_…"

I don't think they were getting _anything _ofwhat I was saying.

André laughed politely, "What _bizarre _footwear madam," He chuckled twisting his grey moustache habitually. I smile back at him, face _scorching _from embarrassment.

This probably wasn't lady-like. Did they wear socks in _Phantom _time?

I forgot what time period Phantom was in – I used to know…but my mind was a mess…I almost forgot what my name was for a second…

At least I decided not to sleep naked.

I would _never _anyway – but getting tipsy before bed got you places.

"I'm Emily, by the way," I suddenly splutter before deciding that they needed my last name. But my last name was _Wilshere _– was that too English? Think of a French surname…French…French… "Dupont." Perfect. "Emily Dupont."

"Ah," I watch as Firmin suddenly claps his hands – striking me as I stumble in surprise. His eyes widen in apology, "Many apologies Miss Dupont. You seem _awfully _– "

Great. They couldn't even think up of a word of how _weird _I look.

How weird I was.

"I know," I laugh as all four of us suddenly laugh in chorus. I know now. They think I'm an alien. They're probably going to get the authorities on me. _Oh well_. Maybe then – I'll wake up. And then Jesse – but – _do I want to wake up?_

If this is Phantom of the Opera.

How _fopping _awesome was _this_?

"Would you like to follow us, Miss Dupont? _Perhaps_, we can find someone to guide you into that correct direction," Lefevre tells me, flushing as I realize now that he does have an announcement to do and the other two men seem –

Fascinated and utterly freaked out by me being there.

Fair enough. "Of course," I nod weakly, and watch as the older man shoves the other two forwards. I softly shuffle behind them, pleased that the whole of this part of the backstage was empty.

They were deep in rehearsal. I could see through the gaps in the screens I was passing all the dancing and – _oh fop!_ - Madame _Giry_!

The _Girmeister._

She's walking around, scolding some of the younger dancers and propping up one of the ballerina's arms for not being straight. "Wow," I breathe – observing the woman as she continued to survey her troop – her stance completely _military._ She reminded me of my Mum actually. _God_, I hate my mum.

As I watch the three men enter the picture – I find myself smiling widely, my lips lifting to a buoyant curve. I sure look crazy smiling like this but there was something about this crazy dream of mine. _Something _real about it. I didn't know if this _was _a crazy dream but I remember my days of watching the Phantom of the Opera as a child into a woman.

Memories of sobbing as the cloaked Phantom sings the reprise of _All I Ask of You…_trying to repress the desire to throw a shoe at Raoul as he and Christine are perched on the roof…

Oh wait – is that just me? I laugh quietly, rubbing my head as I realized how little I've slept. Maybe this _is _a delusion. But how often can you have a delusion so _real_?

And so…_Phantom_.

Maybe this was a _blessing_ in disguise and I should _enjoy _it? I take a soft, nasal inhale as I glance forwards – towards the entrance to where the company was rehearsing. I was tempted – so _tempted _to just _peek. _Maybe I should?

My liquid gaze falls on my socks and I find my words silenced. I couldn't go in there like _this. _I _want _to observe the story. Not _steal _from it. There was no fuzzy haired alien in _Phantom. _Just a shadow. Just until my delusion ends and I wake up from my coma.

Yes.

And that's when I see it. The spare, ballerina costume hanging on the side of the rack of costumes. I _don't _think my legs would look very good in something so _tight_ – plus I like ballet but I stopped doing it three years ago when I knocked a girl's teeth out from a pirouette of mine….

Bad times.

But then I glance at the other costumes – and I realize that _although _I would love to dress up as a bear for my nephew, Duke – I would pick ballet any day.

Sneakily, I grin and skim forwards.

_Phantom of the Opera…watch out._

_I'm Emily Wilshere._

_And I am really clumsy. _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just something random XD Now information about Emily - she is an INSANE E/C shipper. So, you can sort of imagine which way she's going to try and sway the story. She's not gonna meddle...maybe a little. :D It's MEET THE CAST next!**

**disclaimers - anything you recognise is not mine. lost in phantom - related to lost in austen, the tv show.**


	2. No 2 Don't Steal Madame Giry's Costumes

_How to Survive the Phantom of the Opera_

_#2 - Don't steal Madame Giry's costumes (she can get on your ass about it pretty badly)_

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><p>The ballerina costume <em>just <em>about fits me.

I breathe out feeling my diaphragm hinder as I squirm in the corsett. I just managed to tighten it – but _goodness_, I've forgotten what these looked like. I've done ballet since I was seven years old and continued for _ten_ years. I was never good. But I wasn't _bad_. It was just when I knocked out Jesse's tooth that morning I _knew _my ballet dream was over.

Smoothing the side of it, I decide it was time to _sneak_ in. Taking all my clothes and quickly stuffing them below a costume, I repress a giggle as I tiptoe into the room. The first thing that hits me is the _noise._

Everyone was _screaming._

I wince as I find myself being pushed and elbowed as dancers swirl past me; props are carried by me – people, people and _people. _Everywhere. For a moment, I almost feel sick. I am always like that though – that's why I never liked airports. Deciding it was best to sneak to the side, I slowly retreat into a safe corner where I smile as I realize how _nice _the view was. From where I was standing, I could see everybody shuffling around like busybodies. Setting up the stage. The conductor growling and reprimanding a wayward violinist.

Shyly, I sigh realizing _how_ it was even better than I imagined. The set is so full – the dancers were so perfect – my eyes hover over to the group. They were all dressed in their Hannibal costume – so I _still s_tand out. But I am just a simple, nonsensical pending ballerina. As I was. My brown hues continue to narrow as I try and pick out Christine but they all looked oddly similar and with how quickly they danced – it was difficult to pick out anyone –

"Monsieurs, please! We are in the middle of a _rehearsal_!" I giggle a little as I watch the tiny – grey haired conductor usher the three men to the side. I sigh remembering the exact scene in the stage. I found myself with a moment to fully think of what I was getting myself in for.

If this _was _the Phantom of the Opera.

And I am _in _it – does that mean that everything that happens in the stage play is _exactly _here? Do they still burst out in song because I'd _really _like to do masquerade when they do it…I mean I've learnt the steps –

"Sorry," I breathe as three men huffed next to me, pulling the – the _massive _elephant! It's the massive elephant! And –

"Piangi," I chuckle excitedly as the memories of the whole thing float in my mind. I still remembered watching in awe as the whole company perform the grand finale of their rehearsal on stage. In here of course it would seem that this _was _a rehearsal.

My eyes flutter as I think about their wonderful voices.

God, I remembered how jealous I was – how _Christine _had such a beautiful voice in the theatre. I was _nine_, mind you but I remembered telling my Mum how much I aspired for a voice like hers. I've always wanted to have a theatre career you know. But things change – recessions, _lost boyfriends._

And one day, you wake up with your dreams in tatters... and you're in a receptionist job for a glass repair company.

Inwardly clapping as they finish, I found myself staring as they start to clean up and – well, the announcement of course! I step forwards to get a bit closer as everyone is huddling up now. _Trust _me, there was a lot of people. I was tiny so I needed to get closer. I squeezed in between a few people as the circle was formed.

Oh great. It's started! And I can't hear a –

Shuffling between two massive guys. I smiled as I reached _almost _to the front.

"…goodbye! And so, the Opera Populaire's _new _owners and investors, Monsieur Firmin and André."

There was a massive hoot of applause. I join in, just for kicks chuckling as the two men bowed, and waved like professionals. _If only you knew! _"Thank you," I hear Firmin chuckle, "We _do _look forward to this wonderful project. Now please! Do not let our festivities _hinder _your practices! Go forth and _perfect_!"

The company obliges and disperses. I suddenly find myself a little lost as every time I walk in a direction, a person seems to be pushing me into another. I had to see the bit with Carlotta and – "Oh f-flip, sorry!" I gush as I suddenly realized that I had bumped into a person in the process. My eyes lift towards said person and I _swear _to God my heart literally _stops. _

Time for my _next _favourite swear word _alternative._

Oh…sh…_akalaka._

It was Madame Giry. And she did _not _look happy.

Not that she ever _does_, but she looks _pissed _off. My eyes courageously divert and I see Carlotta, her wig bouncing up and down – she was actually _much _uglier than I thought she was going to be – and giggling at the two new managers. _Damn it –_I really wanted to see that bit.

"I do not believe you are the owner of that _costume_."

No kidding. My eyes remain absolutely wide with fear as I tremble – her stare was _burning _me down. I was suddenly tempted to rip it off cold turkey and just run away in tears. She was bloody _frightening_. Her dark hair was neatly pressed in a bun – no stray hair _anywhere _and her eyes were cold and grey.

And then – _salvation._

"Miss Dupont! We thought we had lost you – oh!" André appears bemusedly behind Madame Giry's aggravated face. He seems to find my change of costume even odder than my old clothing. He gives me a happy nod and I find my breaths slowly returning as I turn my gaze to them. Madame Giry turns and I find this sudden urge to giggle rising up my throat.

Oh my goooood! I just met the Girmeister! (That's what Jesse and I call her) – so. Fopping. _Cool._

"Gentlemen," Madame Giry drawls in her _perfect _French accent- everyone has a perfect French accent here. Even _me_ – it must be part of the delusion somewhat. "You know of this woman?" I finger my sleeve, feeling instantly insecure as eyes were beginning to inspect me as her voice rises.

Firmin had arrived now and they both nod enthusiastically.

"Why yes. This is Emily Dupont. She has come to _audition _for the company!"

Cue _'is she mad' _whispers from the company.

This was _so _theatre.

But my thoughts run dry as Madame Giry doesn't seem to find such a prospect as exciting as the two men do. I didn't expect her to – I'm sure she noticed that I've ripped a slight hole in the stockings in the back. Just a _tiny_, tiny bit! I didn't _mean _to rip it of course but I had to make sure I changed in time.

"Monsieurs," The woman turns to me and I brace myself for a sneer, "_We _are a theatre company. Not a _camp._"

I wasn't sure what the imagery was here – but it must have been mean.

What a _bitch._

I totally hate her now. Heart hammering inside of me, I look to the two men who laugh heartily. "Oh, but Madame – she is quite delightful you must see this footwear she was sporting not only moments ago – "

_'Think of me, Think of me fondly,_

_When we've said goodbye,' _

Carlotta has started singing.

The huddle that has formed around me slowly pivoted their heads towards the large, curvaceous woman settled on the front _screeching _out the aria. I blink a little, rendered speechless by the rather harsh…_sharpness _of her tone. Well…she wasn't sharp – or was she? I don't know…there was just something about the way she was singing that was making me want to prod fingers in my ears.

Just like in the musical. Except of course in real life, I couldn't actually look at her – because I know I'd laugh or…just feel my appetite go. She was _disgusting. _I mean, trust me. I know everyone's beautiful and stuff – but I don't know what stuff they'd put on her face but some of her skin – I swear – is wearing off.

Listening to her singing was alleviating my thoughts. It was only now that I realize what was about to happen. My gaze turned to the set she was in front of. The sheet _behind _her. The collapsing curtain. _The Phantom. _

My heart thuds excitedly. No way! It can't happen like that- just like in the musical right? My gaze drops on the soprano who was belting out notes like there was no tomorrow. It's not long now. Not long and then I'll hear the Phantom's voice and see –

Something hits me. There _are _things that have been changed in this – could _Carlotta _get hurt? I mean…it _is_ Carlotta but – _what if it falls on her head and kills her_? It can't…because it doesn't work like that or –

"Does it?" My head goes momentarily blank as Firmin pivots and quirks a bushy eyebrow at me.

"Does it what, my dear?"

Oh god. _Please don't Em. _I _know _you volunteered in the Red Cross for a little bit but it doesn't make you a saint! You can't _meddle_! Remember when you meddled in Joshua Brooks and Louisa Berger's relationship?

Joshie went to _prison _Em.

My mind was so annoying. But I couldn't move, my eyes just kept dashing up and down – at the structure – Carlotta – _structure _– Carlotta - _structure_…

Choking, I quickly maul my body towards the singing diva and scream, "Carlotta!" I then rather _James Bond _style _lunged _towards her – her face was one of utter surprise and shock. I mean - for a second I did think I was a superhero. For Carlotta however...well -I swear she hit a B flat as I grabbed her hand and _dragged _her away.

Just in time, the wooden holder above collapsed just as I knew.

The lights went funny and I felt my head buzz as people began screaming. _It is the ghost! It is the Phantom! _My eyes snap open as I hear those words. It was now that I realize the utter lunacy of my situation.

The Phantom was _here. _Well of _course _he was – but. I can meet – _the _Opera ghost! I – My eyes hovered over the large, majestic opera theatre and for a second words fail me. I am serene as the rest of them bounce against each other, _screeching _about the ghost.

I know the ghost. I _know _him

Well…I don't. But I know as far as various renditions have told me.

The excitement of the discovery and the flush of what I'd just done hit me again. _I saved Carlotta…_I open my eyes again I am once more caught in a crowd of people asking if she was alright. I look at her – she is on the floor, absolutely hysterical with some fat – _Piangi _whoops - consoling and caressing her face.

"Oh, Madame – are you alright?" André asks giving me a small, soft nod as I smile back, resisting from rolling my eyes. _No thank you then, _– my mind snarls.

God. I wish I'd just left that structure to collapse on her.

_Kidding. _Just no more meddling – no more _meddling. _I murmur that to myself as I find myself in the middle of _the _most high-pitched soprano breakdown of the century.

"_ALRIGHT_?" She screams out, stunning the crowd into silence, "I am _NOT alright! _That _thing _almost fell on my BEAUTIFUL HEAD! I COULD HAVE _DIED_!" She stands up and _slaps _– yes _slaps _André in the face as he stumbles back. The crowd blink and whispers resume. Piangi follows her, I was _enjoying _this display waheeeey too much.

"Madame, please," Firmin to the rescue. He steps in front of her as she huffs out, Piangi scuttling after her like a tail.

There was an eerie silence as Carlotta's voice rings out from backstage.

_"I SHALL NEVER RETURN TO THIS IMPOTENT THEATRE AGAIN!"_

Ouch. Impotent was a bit harsh. The two new managers reconvene for a small meeting as the crowd huddles together again. I duck a little to hide from Madame Giry who still seems to be on my arse about the uniform.

Wow, never thought I'd be hiding from Madame Giry.

Sneaking past the people in front of me, I watch as the managers scold the man in charge – _Bouquet – _about the _accident. _People were beginning to retrieve the fallen piece and put it back together again. I shake my head deciding there must not be that much difference – I mean _Carlotta _still lives.

Piangi is still fat - er round. Don't get me wrong. He is _much _better in real life. He doesn't quite look as silly...

And the two managers still remind me of Laurel and Hardy. I smile at that as the two – flustered and clearly unnerved from the knowledge of a certain _haunting_ – open their mouths to address the crowd. The sweaty whispers died down instantly.

"Carlotta – she – shall return, yes?" Firmin asks nervously as the crowd stays blank-faced. _No, _I wanted to say.

But I didn't want to be a kill joy.

"Of _course _not!" The conductor screeches as he picked up fallen sheets from the floor, "That woman is as demanding as she is _certain. _No means no! It is her _motto_ of life!"

The crowd erupts in laughter. André looks about ready to faint. I look around – at the dancers especially and find myself at a loss as to _where _Meg and Christine are. It was here that Madame Giry slowly approaches the front.

I almost pee myself from shock. _Darn it. _The witch – that's her new nickname – has _found _me.

"Miss Dupont," She registers as she eyes me, "I believe our conversation requires to be concluded perhaps we should – "

"Miss Dupont!" André chirps in happily. Madame Giry looked ready to pounce on him. I had to curl my fists to stop myself from laughing. The two theatre managers in Phantom of the Opera taking notice of _me_?

I've really gone insane.

"Madame Giry, I'm sorry for the costume. I just_ needed _something to wear and because it was not being worn…I thought…"

"Such a reason does not give you right," She responds coolly, "And as for your audition…"

I was silenced as I realized what was happening. _They didn't have a soprano. _Because I was distracting the company – Meg can't do the cute thing she does where she basically pushes in Christine to the spotlight.

Darn it.

"…well, perhaps Miss Dupont – you can do it _now_…"

"Yeah, sure – wait _what_?"

Wait – _huh_? My eyes go wide as I almost stumble forwards into the crowd again. I could feel all their eyes glowering at me as my skin pales. My own eyes travel to Madame Giry who gave absolutely nothing away. She didn't look _taunting. _

But I _know _she's taunting me. I just _do. _

Standing there.

Looking all.

_Taunty._

"I – I –" I was stuttering as _you'd expect_. Instantly, I feel sick and I glance up at the two managers who were still fussing over Carlotta's departure. They notice me staring at them and Firmin smiles kindly,

"Oh – apologies, Miss Dupont. Yes! I think that is a _good _idea…go on, Mademoiselle…just a bar or two should do…and then we can get on with this _soprano _business…"

Darn it! He was my last chance! Oh god…_Em don't faint – just sing! _Just _sing_! I sing all the time after all! I just had to imagine that they were all nake – no, that was weird. That never worked for Barbara Streisand. And she's my hero. If it can't work for Barbara – _how the hell can it work on me_?

No…no, my mind was rambling. Not good – not good.

"Mademoiselle?" Madame Giry prompts.

Just sing, Emily. It can't be that difficult. Open your mouth. _And be good_ – my mind adds. I know that if I'm bad I shall never get on the company. And this whole _vacation _would be for _nothing. _Think of a good song…nothing too controversial. Something that would show off your _goods_.

Oh, haha that's funny.

I glance at the crowd once more as I took a deep breath. I pause fidgeting and opened my mouth large. _This is gonna be – _

_An epic fail._

And that was when the song came into my head. I know it well. I sang it in the shower yesterday – sang it on my way home…while I was watching _Pride & Prejudice_….

You get the picture.

"_When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye…" _

They were still staring. Silent. Good sign!

_"…you're just like an angel…your skin makes me cry…" _

Nailing it. I am _so _nailing it.

_"I wish I was special…you're so fu -" _Er, don't say that bit…_ "flipping special…_"

Confused faces there. What was flipping? Well, I suppose that they could only get more confused as I continue to sing…

_"But I'm a creep…I'm a weirdo…_"

The way their faces changed so quickly was the _funniest _thing I have ever seen in my life. A small flurry of whispers surfaced instantly and I was blushing. But I am enjoying this – a lot more than I want to –

_"What the hell am I doing here?" _

The managers were nodding their heads quite approvingly. Madame Giry has an eyebrow up. The little ballet rats are _enthralled. _The rest were suppressing giggles.

_"…I don't belong here…_"

My mouth clamps shut as the last note was sung. Everyone was _stunned _silent. No-one moved for a few minutes and I had to stop myself from actually going hysterical. It was the managers in the end who clapped, quite flushed from the whole ordeal.

"Well, Mademoiselle Dupont! That was…rather _original_, if anything!" André chuckles as he came over to me. The rest of the company were now definitely giggling as I turn bright red. "…what an interesting composition! Do you know of the composer?"

Radiohead.

But they didn't know what a radio was! Best just lie…

"I do not know," I admit with a small, innocent sigh. The two men look at each other and do a theatrical bow of disappointment. And as I look over to the large company, it hits me. I am Emily _Dupont _– I can save the day! _Save _the Phantom of the Opera!

Well…not really, as I'm the one ruining it. Noticing a brunette just in front of me, I grin brightly and slightly exasperated I point at her silencing everyone,

"_Christine _Daaé!" I shout out loud, "I believe _she's _a good singer!"

See. I can totally do Meg in the West End. Dunno why they haven't called me.

There was a large eruption of laughter. I blink and stagger backwards as the brunette _glares _at me. I almost glare back – wow, Christine is a –

"I am NOT Christine Daae!" The brunette argues. My face blanches. Bad, _bad _mistake. I've loved the story of my life and I could not identify Christine 'flipping' Daae. I'm sorry, fellow phantomettes. I have failed you.

"_I'm _Christine." A voice gaze slowly travels until it drops on a person with their hand up. The moment my eyes drop on her, I almost kicked myself – of _course _she's Christine…why didn't I pick her out?

"S-Sorry," I told the brunette I'd mistaken for Christine and she smiles pitifully back. As I slowly regain composure and the managers _and _even Madame Giry get distracted by Christine getting up – well…

Cue Meg.

"Yes! Christine!" She pushes Christine to the front as she blushes beetroot.

I take a step back and let her take centre stage. It was here that I _inspect _her.

Only one thing I can honestly say – she was _gorgeous. _

I think Christine Daaé can make Marilyn Monroe feel insecure. Even now, I felt like running towards the mirror and crying. She just had the most _perfect _figure and the shiniest hair. I sigh enviously – and adoringly. She was as she looked in the musical - not blonde in the book (I sort of wanted her to be blonde but the girl in the book _annoyed _me). Her eyes were very, very blue though. _Pshawww._

_Can't hate her cause she's beautiful! – _I laugh inside as Madame Giry seems to push the managers aside and proudly speaks out,

"She has been taking lessons, Monsieur. _Christine_, perhaps you should…" She nods to gesture to sing. I watch as then the woman turns to me as Christine begins to do the aria – _stumbling a_t first but pitch perfect as she got going.

I half expected for there to be a quick set/costume change in the middle…but realized that time went oddly in _real life…_ My attention returns bleakly to Christine... her voice is really perfect! I mean…I was getting chills! But I suppose she _has _been taught by the _best _teacher in town for about ten or so years…

Cheat. _Joking._

"Mademoiselle Dupont."

I stop breathing as I nod apologetically at Madame Giry. I was right – she does remind me of my Mama. And like with Mama, I am _always _obedient in the end. I have to do what my Mum told me. It's…like instinct.

"Madame Giry…I shall – "

She stops me with a nod. Within an instant, I was wordless.

A smile – _yes _a SMILE graces across her lips. I almost giggle like a loony as she takes a finger and tips up my chin,

"_Ladies _always sing with good posture, Miss Dupont. You shall begin practice tomorrow…I believe you may show us your dancing abilities, then yes?"

"Y-Yes!" I squeal as she narrows her eyes at me. "I mean…yes," I repeat politely as she turns and watches as Christine gets howled at by the company.

I howl too.

"_Woot_ woot! Go Christine!"

The company silences and they stare at me. Christine beams and gives me a small, kind wave. Before of course the conductor pats her on the back and Madame Giry begins to arrange the dancers for _more _rehearsal.

I sit, cross-legged just where I was observing before the Carlotta drama and sigh loudly.

_Somehow_ – something was telling me that I was going to fit right in.

This was the _best _delusion/mind vacation ever…and just as I was thinking this, I hear shuffling from above. My eyes instinctively look up and for a second – _just _for a second…I swear I see a shadow.

My spine trembles as I look back down. With my legs still crossed, I shuffle forwards away from the back.

Best not be anywhere _near _anything that could fall on top of me.

Just in case the Phantom was feeling _gleeful. _Oh... of course, the Phantom. I look up again, hoping to see the shadow... but failed. Dammit. I would just have to do it like a super spy mission. After all, I had forgotten to bring my '_I (HEART) Phantom' _t-shirt with me.

Shame.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I decided to update this. Sorry for the wait - the 'texts' story was stealing muse and I shall get to that too. I've also had to be doing a friend's essay for them (don't ask) so, I'm in the midst of the myth of multitasking. I hope you guys still like it and I'll reply to the reviews shortly! **

**- song is 'Creep' by Radiohead. And just a comment, I've never realized how many E/SELFINSERT fics there are! This is not one... because Emily is not me... she has a little bit of me but she's cooler than me (in my opinion, haha) - and she'll DIE from feelings if she was with Erik so...apart from a few fan girl squealing.. she'll keep her hands off him ;) RAOUL next, haha. Fopping awesome, eh? **


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